


Blue Christmas

by SpoonyLupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheesy, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male Bonding, Missing Scene, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoonyLupin/pseuds/SpoonyLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Arthur Weasley is attacked by the snake, he’s placed in the same room as another bite victim - a werewolf who is having a hard time adjusting to the latest turn of events in his life. When Remus pays him a visit, can he say anything that will convince the angry young werewolf that his life isn’t so bleak after all? [A missing moment from Order of the Phoenix.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

While the young man simply looked lonely, Remus thought he had a pretty good idea what else he must be feeling. Confusion, fear, sadness, and above all, anger. Anger for what had happened to him, and at the werewolf who had been responsible. Furious that things were happening to him that were completely out of his control, and that people who had absolutely no clue about werewolves were trying to treat him and tell him that he could have a normal life.

The new werewolf eyed him suspiciously as he approached, which Remus had rather suspected. “What?” the young man demanded.

About a thousand different answers ran through Remus’s mind in response to that question. “I…it looked like you could use some company.”

“’M fine. Really.” He turned his head away, staring at the window on the opposite side of the room, his coppery red hair falling into his eyes. For a moment, Remus thought about how he had probably been quite popular with the girls when he was at school. Remus wondered what those girls would think of him now that he was a werewolf.

“Especially from someone who can understand what you’re going through,” Remus added.

The young man looked at him quickly, the expression on his face one of pure disgust. “ _No one_ can understand what it is I’m going through,” he scoffed. “You know how many healers a _day_ come in here and tell me they can understand how _hard_ it is? You people don’t have a clue.” He turned his head away again miserably, and it almost looked like he was trying to bury his head in his pillow. “In case no one’s told you,” he mumbled, ”I’m a werewolf. I was bitten two weeks ago, and I’m here recovering.”

“I know. They told me what happened to you.”

“So why on earth would you want to visit me?” the man snapped. “That’s why I don’t have any visitors right now. That’s why I haven’t had _any_ visitors since I’ve been here! Not even my _family_ could be bothered to come and see me on Christmas of all days. Not even my parents.”

“Are you sure they know?” Remus interrupted softly. “Maybe…”

“Oh, they know,” the man cut him off. He thrust his chin towards the bedside table where a crumpled up ball of parchment sat. “They sent me a letter. They wished me well, but said they are entirely too busy with the holidays to be making trips to the hospital. How the hell long does it take to _Floo_ here and see me for _five minutes_? Their _own son_? And how much do you want to bet that even after the holidays are over, they‘ll still be too busy to see me?”

Remus wanted to tell him he understood, but he wasn’t entirely sure that that was the case anymore. Remus was more than used to people rejecting and discriminating against him, but his parents had gone out of their way to support him and take care of him. He couldn’t even imagine what he would have done if his parents had wanted nothing to do with him after his bite. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

“No, I am. It’s not your problem.” The young man paused and made a face. “I’m still not sure why you’re here listening to me. Or how you can stand to look at me. Even the healers have this expression on their faces every time they come in here. They’re supposed to be the ones taking care of me, and they look at me like…” He trailed off, shaking his head and laughing bitterly.

“Like you’re a non-person,” Remus finished for him.

The young man blinked up at him in confusion. “How could you…?” His voice died in his throat and his mouth hung open a bit as the truth dawned on him. “Oh.”

“I believe Arthur mentioned me,” Remus continued, gesturing back towards Mr. Weasley’s bed. “The werewolf he was friends with?”

The man shifted around uncomfortably on his bed, his cheeks growing red. “I thought…I thought he was making it up - trying make me feel better.”

“I’m sure he was,” Remus replied. “Trying to make you feel better, I mean,” he clarified before a long silence fell. It looked like the young werewolf was still trying to process everything, so Remus strained to keep the conversation going. “My name’s Remus.”

It was a while before the other werewolf responded. “Marek,” he finally said. “Although I’m sure you know already from the nametag.” He pointed to the wall behind him where a little piece of paper sat behind a plastic window, which read _Williams, Marek_.

“Oh,” Remus murmured, shaking his head. “I didn’t notice - I didn’t want to be nosey.”

“Everyone else is,” Marek muttered. “Everyone else in this room gets visitors, and they always make it a point to walk past me. More than once. They try and look casual about it, like they’re just going to look out the window, but you know they’re dying of curiosity, wanting to see what a real werewolf looks like up close. But not too close, mind.”

Remus hummed grimly. “One of the things you’re going to have to get used to. Some people treating you like you’re a freak.”

Marek glanced at him wearily. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”

“Sorry. Would you rather I lie?”

Marek shook his head harshly. “No, of course not.” His eyes went to the door of the room, checking to make sure there were no healers around. “I get the idea that I’m being lied to enough by the healers.”

“Let me guess,” Remus mused. “They keep telling you that ‘it won’t hurt that much.’”

“Pretty much.”

“They’re lying.”

Marek bowed his head, like he was trying to take in this latest bit of information, but he didn’t appear entirely surprised. “I kind of figured. If it hurts anything at all like the bite itself…” Marek seemed to decide that he didn’t want to think about it anymore, so he switched gears. “What healer is going to tell you that you have enormous amounts of pain to look forward to, even if it’s the complete truth?”

Remus frowned deeply. “Not many, and I think that‘s one of the worst things they can do. I know they’re trying to make it a little less scary for you, but I don’t think that lying about it is the way to go. Because in just a few more weeks, you’re going to find out that they were lying about the level of pain, and if they lied about that, it makes you wonder what else they lied to you about.”

Marek laughed cruelly. “All they do is come in here and tell me that I can still lead a normal life.”

“Exactly, which only serves to make you terrified about your future.” Similarly, Remus glanced about the room to make sure that no one was too close, and even then, he leaned in a little closer to Marek. “Look, once you get out of here, I highly suggest you find a private healer. One that specializes in lycanthropic patients, and not these gits that work for the Ministry. Oh, they act all nice and friendly, but they don‘t know the first thing about what you‘re going through, nor are they willing to try.”

Marek raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You mean there are healers that aren’t full of it?”

“Indeed,” Remus said, smirking. “You just have to look a little harder until you find the right one. In fact, I could give you the name and Floo address of mine if you like.”

“And he’s good?”

“Quite so.” Remus reached for the crumpled up letter on Marek’s bedside table, the one that his parents had sent. Remus flattened it out and turned it over to the blank side. He grabbed up the quill and ink bottle next (probably left by some well-meaning healer encouraging Marek to write his parents back), scribbling across the piece of parchment. “His name is Anthony Isaacs. I’ve had him since I was five, and I’ve never even _thought_ about finding anyone else. He‘s terrific.”

“And he didn’t care when you were bitten?” Marek asked doubtfully. “Didn’t start treating you like the plague?”

Remus took a deep breath, setting aside the quill and folding up the piece of parchment. “He became my healer after I was bitten.”

“But you said…” Marek’s bright blue eyes grew wide, incredulous. “When you were _five_? When you were bitten for Merlin’s sake?”

“That same year.” Remus spotted a chair a few feet away and pulled it over to the bed, resigned to the fact that this was going to be a long conversation. He sat on it backwards, resting his arms across the back. “That’s why Anthony became my healer. Everyone else suggested that my parents ship me off to a nice werewolf colony, that they didn’t have to deal with my condition if they didn’t want to. Anthony was the first and only one who didn’t. He helped my parents and me adjust to it, and we did, probably a lot better than we would have on our own.”

“So your parents were supportive?”

“Yes,” Remus said quietly, “very much so.” He felt horrible, knowing that Marek’s parents couldn’t be bothered to see their son, even on Christmas.

Marek shrugged like he knew what Remus was thinking. Marek opened his mouth to speak, but then his face turn into a pained grimace. His left hand went up to his right shoulder, pressing his palm against it. “I keep forgetting it still hurts.”

“Is that the bite?”

Marek nodded, messaging at his shoulder gingerly. “Everything else has stopped hurting already except for that blasted bite, and nothing they give me is helping!”

“It’ll stop hurting once your first transformation is over.”

“God.” Next, Marek rubbed at his eyes wearily. “That sounds so insane - my first transformation.”

“Have you worked out where you’re going to be for it yet?”

“My home, I guess. That’s where I’d rather be. The healers have offered me some Ministry-run safe house-”

“Don’t set foot in one of those places,” Remus cut him off.

Marek snorted. “I wasn’t, thanks.”

“They’re only one step up from colonies,” Remus added. “Do you have a basement?”

“Yes.”

“Underground?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Remus knew that it was hard trying to work out the details on top of all the fear and pain Marek was already in, but it looked like he had already been thinking about things. “Apply every kind of Door-Locking and Strengthening Charm that you know. It would even serve you well to look up some that you don’t know and apply those, too. You can never be too careful. Do you live with anyone? Anyone that could come and check on you after?”

Marek looked slightly confused, as if he was having trouble processing everything Remus was telling him. “No. I have my own place, and I’m a bachelor. I highly doubt my parents or any of my family could be bothered. They‘re as pure-blood as you can get these days, so it‘s pretty clear how they‘ll all feel about me now.”

“Then I definitely suggest you get on as one of Anthony’s patients as soon as possible,” Remus replied. “He has assistants that can come and check on you afterwards to make sure you’re okay.”

“The…the healers said there’s this potion…”

“The Wolfsbane.”

“Yes, does it help?”

“It’s a godsend,” Remus said firmly. “I went through roughly twenty-five years of transformations before it was discovered. I tore myself to shreds every single full moon, unable to control it. But the Wolfsbane allows you keep your mind. You’re more or less a harmless dog until the moon goes down. The transformation itself is really the only thing you have to worry about.”

“That man…” Marek said, gesturing across the room to Mr. Weasley. “Arthur I think he said his name was.” When Remus nodded, Marek continued. “He said you find the condition ‘quite easy to manage’.”

Remus considered this. “I suppose it must seem that way after a while.”

“So it’s not?”

“I didn’t say that,” Remus corrected. He frowned in thought. “I wouldn’t really say it’s easy, but I wouldn’t say it’s hard, either. It just is.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you get used to it.” Remus bit his lip, staring down at the floor for a minute. “I don’t want to scare you…”

“Oh, you can’t possibly scare me anymore than I already am, trust me.”

“The first transformation is the worst,” Remus said, looking up once again.

“Yes, the healers have said. Apparently, that’s one of the well-known werewolf facts.” Marek rolled his eyes.

“As soon as that one’s over, it’s better,” Remus said reassuringly. “You know what to expect, and at least you’ll never experience that level of pain again. Just like you get used to it mentally, I suppose your body gets used to it, too.”

“There’s nothing that helps with the pain? Not the Wolfsbane or anything?”

Remus shook his head grimly. “Unfortunately not. Not even if you take all the pain-killing potions the world beforehand, because I’ve tried it.”

“The Wolfsbane is expensive, isn’t it?”

“Yes, which is another reason why I highly recommend Anthony. He’s sympathetic, and he knows not everyone can afford it. He’s willing to work out payment plans, and he’ll even allow you to pay him through other means if you’d rather.”

“Other means?”

“If you’re a herbologist or something,” Remus explained, “you can pay him in plants, help to flesh out the ingredients for his potions a bit. Things like that. He even has one patient who’s an artist, and she pays him in paintings.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad. I‘m a writer. Do you think Anthony would take stories as payment?”

“I’m sure he would.” After a moment of silence, Remus added, “But just because you have the Wolfsbane, don’t let that make you careless.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just because the potion allows you to keep your mind,” Remus said, “it doesn’t mean you should disregard the safety of your house. You should still stay locked up every single full moon, because accidents can and still happen. I never take that chance. Not anymore.”

Marek suddenly looked shocked, and he pushed himself up a bit in bed. “Have you ever bitten anyone?” he asked in alarm.

“No, thank Merlin,” Remus said. “But I was stupid and careless when I was young. I used to go running in the woods, not giving a second thought to what would happen if I ever hurt anyone. I had a few close calls, and I didn’t realize until I was older how stupid I was being. How much hurt I could have caused someone else, just like they caused us. No, I can safely say that I’ve never passed it on to anyone else, but that‘s just because I was lucky a few times.”

“I never want to, either.”

“Then just make sure you’re in a safe, charmed enclosure every full moon, whether you have the Wolfsbane or not. That’s the best you can do.”

Marek’s face suddenly morphed into an expression of anger, his hands curling up into fists at his sides. “Why didn’t the bloody bastards that bit us do the same?”

Remus sighed heavily. “I don’t know. That’s something I’ve laid awake at night asking myself many times.” Marek was visibly shaken now, his breath coming in short gasps, so Remus added, “If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t change it.”

Marek looked at Remus like snow was pouring through the ceiling and forming a mound on the top of his head. Tiny little skiers might even have been making their way down the sides of the mountain of snow judging by the expression on Marek’s face.

Remus laughed breathlessly. “I get that reaction a lot. Oh, don’t get me wrong. If they suddenly found a cure, I’d be the first in line, no questions asked. But…as I said, I’ve been a werewolf since I was five years old. I don’t remember what it’s like to not be one. Whether I like it or not, it’s completely shaped who I am today.” He paused, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to change that. Sometimes I think about who I would be if I hadn’t been bitten, and…it scares me. I might be one of these anti-werewolf activists or Merlin only knows what.”

Ducking his head, Marek stared into his lap for a while. Remus almost thought he could see a faint blush working its way up into Marek’s cheeks. “I almost _was_ ,” Marek admitted after a while. “I easily could have been. I mentioned my family - as pure-blood as possible, rather fanatic in their ways. They don’t like werewolves, or vampires, or house-elves, or Muggle-borns, or even half-bloods. They think they’re all dirty, and I was pretty much raised to believe the same. And I did for my first twenty-five years. Now here I am - one of the very things that I used to hate. Talk about poetic justice.”

“You’re not a thing,” Remus said warmly.

“But everyone-” Marek began desperately, “the way they all _look_ at me when they come in here-”

“Not everyone will look at you like that,” Remus interjected gently. “Promise.”

“But you said that that was one of things I’d have to get used to - people treating me like a freak.”

“I said some people treating you like a freak,” Remus reminded. “And they will. They’ll act like you’re going to pass it on to them just by looking at them. They might call you names, make fun of you. It’s one of the things you have to learn to ignore. Just like when you were in school, and the kids all made fun of you because you had glasses, or you dressed funny, or-”

“Or you liked to study,” Marek interrupted. “I was teased because I was smart.”

Remus grinned. “Then we have a lot more in common than just being werewolves.”

“You know, I always looked forward to getting _out_ of school so I wouldn’t have to be around those rotten little buggers anymore.”

“And just like when you were in school,” Remus went on, “there were those who liked you and were friends with you anyway.”

Marek’s eyes went to Mr. Weasley’s bed again. “You…you said you were friends?”

“Indeed we are.”

“And he knows…”

It wasn’t a question, but Remus answered it anyway. “Mhm. And he doesn’t care. I have lots of friends actually. All of them know, and none of them care. Perhaps that’s one of the best things about being a werewolf. You know exactly who your real friends are. I’ve had my fair share of buggers, too, believe me. I’ve been made fun of and discriminated against more times than I care to remember, but I have some of the most amazing friends you could ever imagine. They’ve proven that to me time and time again, and I know they’d defend me to the ends of the earth and back if they had to. They almost make up for it in some way.”

“So you’re not a complete outcast.” It almost sounded like Marek was saying so to try and convince himself of it.

“I’ve never felt that way, no.”

Marek glanced over at Remus, eyeing his torn and patched robes. “Can I ask…?” He broke off and shook his head, like he had thought better of it.

“You can ask,” Remus spurred. “I rather doubt anyone else is going to give you the complete truth. I‘m sure no one other than a werewolf even _knows_ the complete truth, so ask whatever you like.”

Marek opened and closed his mouth several times, but then he rushed on, almost like he was afraid of losing his nerve. “What about…a job? Do you have one?”

“I’ve had a few jobs on and off over the years,” Remus answered, “but nothing long-term, and nothing at the moment. But I’m well taken care of,” he added, sounding almost ashamed.

“By who?” Marek didn’t sound like he believed him.

“First my parents and then after they passed away, my friends,” Remus said around a heavy breath. “They’ve given me more than enough.” He plucked at one of the threadbare sleeves of his robes. “I could dress better than this if I wanted, I just choose not to. I hate taking handouts, and I use just enough of their money to get by.”

“Nice friends,” Marek said wistfully. “I hope I find ones like that.”

Remus smiled. “You will. Just like with the healers, you have to look a little harder to find the right ones, but they’re there.” Just then, Remus thought of something. He hated to bring it up now that Marek seemed to be in a good mood, but he didn’t want to see Marek get into any kind of trouble, because Remus was really starting to like him. “Listen, I hate to bother you with it…”

Marek threw Remus a tired expression. “What?”

“Have you signed up yet?” Remus asked. “With the Werewolf Registry?”

“God, _no_ ,” Marek spat out. “They’ve tried to get me to, believe me. They’re in here every day with those _damn_ papers to fill out.”

“You need to.”

Marek stared at Remus, looking hurt. “Like a hole in the head!” Marek cried. “Sign up so I can be nothing but a ruddy number to the Ministry?! So they can monitor me like I’m a criminal when I haven’t done _anything_ wrong?! Are you serious?! That register is nothing but a piece of shite. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

“I don’t disagree,” Remus said sadly. “Unfortunately, I don’t make the rules. The penalty is quite high for those who don’t register.”

“Yeah, some fine.”

“One thousand galleons for every full moon that you aren’t registered,” Remus explained.

Marek’s anger seemed to falter. “One _thousand_? _Every_ full moon?” When Remus nodded, Marek started yelling again. “Well how in the bloody hell do they expect you to pay that when you can’t even get a decent job?!”

“That’s the point. You _aren’t_ supposed to pay it.”

Marek swallowed hard. He didn’t seem like he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. “What happens if you don’t?”

“You get a one-way ticket to the nearest werewolf colony.”

“What are they like? You mentioned them before - you said that the safe houses are one step up from the colonies - but…I’m not even sure what they are.”

“You _don’t_ want to know,” Remus said exasperatedly. Marek, however, didn’t seem to accept that. He kept looking at Remus curiously, so he finally answered. “They’re more or less prisons for werewolves. You get a little cell to live in and barely enough food to sustain you. If you get sick, they don’t care, because if you die, that’s one less werewolf to worry about. The guards are allowed to beat you to bloody pulp if they see fit, for any reason they desire. I think sometimes they even make up rules on the spot, just so they can have a reason to take whatever problems they have out on you.” Remus leaned in closer and said harshly, “Marek, _please_ don’t risk going to one. It isn’t worth it. Signing up for a stupid register is small price to pay.”

Marek’s eyes were wide with horror. “How do you know all that? That doesn’t exactly sound like something the Ministry would make public knowledge.”

“It isn’t,” Remus replied. “They cover it up, make it sound like colonies are nice places to go. It’s downright insane. But I’ve been to one - _visited_ one to satisfy my own curiosity. I‘d die before I‘d go back there. And I‘d die before I let anyone else go to one. Not if it‘s something that can be prevented.”

Marek closed his eyes and seemed to deflate, sinking down into his bed. He looked defeated. “I’ll sign up. I will. The next time they bring the papers in here.”

“Good.”

Just then, Mrs. Weasley approached from across the room. “Remus?” she asked. “We’re heading back to the house now to get started on Christmas dinner.”

Remus looked back and forth between Marek and Molly, not quite sure that he wanted to leave just yet.

“Oh,” Marek said, sounding a bit sad, “go on. I don’t want to interfere in your holiday.”

“No, it‘s all right.” Remus said to Molly, “I actually think I’ll stay here for bit. You go on back, and I’ll catch up later.”

“Are you sure?” both Molly and Marek asked at the same time.

Remus smiled. “Yes, positive.”

“Oh, okay,” Molly said. “I’ll keep something warm for you if you’re late. Happy Christmas,” she said to Marek before returning to her husband to say goodbye.

“I don’t want to ruin your plans,” Marek said quietly, regretfully.

“You’re not,” Remus said cheerily. “They’ve changed a bit, but they’re definitely not ruined.”

Marek smiled, perhaps the first true smile that Remus had seen from him yet. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I lied when you first came over.” When Remus frowned, Marek clarified, “When I said that I was fine. Because I’m not.”

“I didn’t expect you to be,” Remus whispered. “It may have been over thirty years ago for me, but I can still remember everything I felt after learning I was a werewolf so clearly. All the anger, the fear, the shock, the sadness, the shame. The way you feel so alone at first, because you don’t think that anyone else in the entire world could possibly understand what it is you’re going through. It’s like that moment has been indelibly imprinted on my soul, more so than any other experience in my life. I don’t think it’s something you ever forget, but I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone in it.”

Marek’s breathing seemed to speed up a bit, but for an entirely different reason than anger this time. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to.

“You know when you said that you wished you could find a nice friend?” Remus asked. “Well, you’ve got one. I know I may not be quite what you were expecting, but…”

“And I can write you?”

“Of course. As much as you like. We can even visit if you want.”

Marek’s blue eyes were swimming, but he kept them focused on his lap in an effort to hide them. “I thought…” His voice cracked, so he stopped for a while, trying to get this emotions in check. “I thought this was going to be the most miserable Christmas I could have imagined. I didn’t even have a friend or family member who could bother to come by. I thought it was just going to be one long horrid day to remind me of how alone I am-” He stopped, pressing his lips and his eyes closed.

“And now?” Remus asked gently.

“I ended up finding a friend. I can’t think of a better gift than that.”

_The end_


End file.
